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FMA Fic Exchange
[Fanfic] Envy - PG-13 - "Almost a fairytale." 
30th-Sep-2008 09:40 pm
Neon Rainbow [Default]
Title: Almost a fairytale.
Author's Name: Rieka De-Volka (aka ranty_rie )
Written For: dragon_fairie
Pairing or Character: Envy, with Ed, Al, Dante and Hohenheim
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: +/- 850.
Spoilers/Warnings: For the anime, vague spoilers for the ending.
Notes: This one was hard, considering the prompt was pretty vague. I hope it fits with the requester's wishes, as I honestly tried my best.

Almost a fairytale.


It starts rather simple, like all great things start; the spark of an idea that grows into obsession and then flourishes properly into madness. It starts with a sickly child confined to a room with boring, green wallpaper and a nightstand full of poisons. A father that leaves to find a cure that doesn't exist and a mother that mourns a death yet to happen.

And the child, alone in his room with green nightmares and poisoned brews, dreams.

Dreams are funny things, you see, lies and deceit are their siblings, but they don't suffer their untimely reputation. Dreams are hope distilled into the impossible and eventually consume a life in their making. It goes from lie to dream to deceit to death, in a cycle that's eventually immortalized by a poet and restarts with the next generation that grows up listening to the tale.

The tale starts like this, simple, a child, a mother and a father, but most importantly, a child. A child that silently dreams of being someone else, anyone else. A mother that hopes to remain. A father that promises not to leave.

The child dies, the mother weeps and the father leaves; in his wake, he leaves a monster and the master of the monster, and that's how the story began.


It's a funny thing, how the simple complicates itself, twisting and turning and becoming something not quite like its roots. There's no child, no mother, no father. There's a monster with a thousand faces, cursed to forever be someone else, paying eternity a sliver of self with each day and a memory of a dream - nightmare - each night. There's a master - never merely a mistress - with a vision to cast the world into revolution; revolution is change and transmutation and yet the art of preserving the core.

So Master and Monster travel the world, one turning dreams into nightmares and the other weaving the tendrils for her next big step.

And the father? The father erodes with time and becomes a mountain of ashes in the dusty corners of memories. Becomes Him, who has no name and just one purpose.

It started simple, easy, it will not end that way.


It's a convoluted mess of cause and consequence, that's what it is. Because from the very basic principles - destroy, understand, rebuild - the child was made Monster and the mother tuned Master. And one by one, the threads of reactions collapse onto each other and build castles that the foolish won't appreciate. Master works a masterpiece, Monster becomes a tool of revolution, the perpetual change of eternity made flesh.

Others join, others fail, because they didn't start simple, they didn't base themselves in a straightforward triad.

And from the ashes in corners, a man with no name joins a woman with a smile; in the eyes of a healthy, defiant child, he remembers he's Father.

Far, far away, plans to change the world are made. In his little microcosm of smiles and warmth, the father understands he is Father. It's written all over the gleeful curve of a second child's smile. Mother, Father, Child, and he flees the dream before it crashes into a nightmare again.

Poor, poor Father, he never knew he didn't have "children" anymore; he had sons.


The Monster is a deceptively beautiful mix of arrogance and ruthlessness, of carelessness and hatred. The Monster is Master's most docile tool, most faithful companion, because the monster is a servant as well. There's no stronger bond between them than the knowledge of their distance, and they keep walking together not out of some misguided sense of loyalty, but inertia dragging their footsteps along the path. Behind them, the endless rows of sacrifices in the name of revolution; ahead, the blood red brilliance of the unknown they have built with their deaths.

There's no life without death, there's no life beyond death; there's only the abyss of not quite a second chance and the illusion of permanence while everything fades away.

It started simple, but it won't end that way. Twists and turns and chances and choice, and it is the Sons that will fight them. Sons who sinned for a mother and sought out a father, and instead found themselves. Sons who are not children, could never be children, who never started simply.

The End is in sight.


It started simply. It started harshly. It never started at all.

Mother and mother fall, both just the shell of the soul they were searching for. Monster and child perish in the golden light, coiled tightly within scales and hatred and wrath. Father merely walks away - away, away, away, there's nowhere else for him to head - and the silence reigns in the face of desolation.

"Sons" is a plural not fit to the lone individual left behind. "Sons" is a painful reminder for the still fiercely hopeful dream caught in the web, across the trap. "Sons" is a word Father might yet learn to pronounce.

It started simply. It started harshly. It's not over yet.
9th-Oct-2008 03:32 am (UTC)
That was very good, considering the prompt you had to work with.
10th-Oct-2008 10:29 pm (UTC)
Thank you. :)
10th-Oct-2008 09:32 pm (UTC)
Um, well, God. That had to be one of the best fics I've read. I feel really bad that the prompt wasn't very clear, but if this is the result I'm going to get, I'll go ahead and write and unclear prompt next time, too.

Thanks so much, Aubrey.
2nd-Nov-2008 03:12 pm (UTC)
Gah, I keep making cliche references to the titles of all these Exchange pieces, but this truly did read almost like a fairytale. Excellently phrased, elegantly played out.

This is one of the most flawless, compact descriptions of Dante/Envy I have ever read: "There's no stronger bond between them than the knowledge of their distance, and they keep walking together not out of some misguided sense of loyalty, but inertia dragging their footsteps along the path."


The ending was also particularly resonant; it's a fairytale that doesn't end in happily ever after, because it hasn't even ended yet. It brings a sense of intimate immediacy to all of the emotions described throughout the piece.
2nd-Nov-2008 03:17 pm (UTC) - Judges' Comments
This piece has me still thinking about it, and that's what's so great about it. Because that's something that's hard to do. Sure, we can think about it, but I'm still pondering over the whole piece, and not just because of how it's written. It's a short piece and had little to no prompting, yet the result is so very very interesting. A very good take on a mysterious topic and it works so so well. The style of writing isn't complacent either, it flows effortlessly. I quite liked the title, it's very....it's a juxtaposition to what the story is and it works in it's favour.
5th-Mar-2009 07:20 pm (UTC)
Hon'. How did this slip under my awesomeness radar? Especially since you're my friend! How did it?! I cannot believe that I could have completly missed something like this. Because you totally hit my spot. My 'fairy tale' spot. It's a huge one but rarely anyone sees it. Just let me tell you: I LOVE IT! I love it so much that I misspelled word 'love' the first time a had to write it again - I was so excited! I love the tag lines that you use like "
It started simply. It started harshly. It's not over yet." or "Poor, poor Father, he never knew he didn't have "children" anymore; he had sons." it reminds me of nursery rhythms a little. Or lullabies sang by mother meant as a warning for their children. I love how mother and child changed and headed in the direction of revolution. I adore how you confronted Monster and Sons. This is a truly wonderful fic. I hope you will write more! (And that this time I will be more lucky in noticing your updates. xD)
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